The Assassin and the Vanguard
by gemmadoodlesthings
Summary: Collected Shepard/Thane one-shot ficlets based on the 30 Days of Writing prompts from Tumblr, set during and post ME2. Many of these fit into a larger plot I am co-writing.
1. Author's Note

**The Assassin and the Vanguard - 30 Days of Shepard & Thane  
Tumblr Meme Prompts**

These prompts are taken from the 30 Days of Writing meme on tumblr,  
and are written primarily in the same alt universe as a larger  
fanfic/fanart project written (and co-written) by LoboDiabloLoneWolf and myself.

These prompts feature my headcanon Shepard, Alena. She my canon Shepard in  
ME1 and ME2, but I have since applied her far too much to fanfic and her story and  
character progression no longer fits into the canon universe – therefore, take  
all of these prompts as AU, though it is, for the most part, only slightly.

She is an unapologetically **CUSTOM **Shepard - if you do not like  
stories about custom versions of Shepard, these fics are not for you.  
A find-and-replace name swap is not going to make Alena any less  
like Alena if her name is Jane instead.

Alena was Earthborn and she survived the attack on  
Akuze. She is a pragmatic Paragon with a ruthless streak, and up  
until the end of ME2 her story more or less follows the canon plotline,  
though her history is very much headcanoned.

Her sole love interest is Thane Krios.  
Ashley Williams survived Virmire, and everyone survived the suicide mission.

These prompts occur in game-time and post ME2 headcanon_.  
_As such there are spoilers for ME1 and ME2, though since I and Lobo's  
larger fanfic is not yet written I have kept plot-relevant details to a  
minimum. Lots of these are also headcanon-heavy character  
explorations, and they are presented in the order that the  
30 Days of Writing Prompts are given, not chronologically.


	2. Beginning

**#1 - Beginning**

When she had first come bursting into the tower in a cascade of exploding glass and biotics, Thane had watched from his distant dark corner and assumed she was just another mercenary. It was only when he'd gotten a closer look at her that he realised who she was.

Commander Alena Shepard, first human Spectre, saviour of the Citadel… and two years dead, or so the rumours would have one believe. Yet here she was, an exuberant bundle of chaotic energy, very much alive and leaving bedlam in her wake.

Of course he'd heard of her – everyone had, even if they wouldn't recognise her if she walked past them in the street. The stories of her endeavours were talked about all over the galaxy, by all species, but it was difficult these days to tell who was exaggerating and who was not. He was coming to realise that many of the more embellished tales might actually be true.

He had observed her progress from his position in the ventilation system. Fearsome biotics and excellent aim mixed with her own specific brand of ruthless recklessness made her deadly, a flash of red armour and yellow hair streaking across the battlefield in a haze of blue. Her team worked seamlessly with her, the turian sniper and quarian engineer barely needing a gesture from her to do as she wanted. Despite the chaos, despite the mayhem, she commanded the fight with poise and precision.

And amongst the violence, she displayed a rare capacity for such kindness, such mercy. He saw her patch up an injured salarian with medi-gel from her own supply, even though she did not have much to spare. He watched as she helped more of the workers escape the locked room he himself had sealed them into for their own protection, once the mercs were cleared out.

She was… fascinating. Or her presence here was, anyway. Was she here for Nassana? One thing he knew for certain: it was obvious that she knew he was there. Suddenly he was not so apathetic about his mission. He had taken it fully expecting it to be his last and not caring if it was, but Shepard's presence had prodded him forwards. He would _not _be beaten in a mission. He was far too proud to allow someone else to kill his target, even if that someone was Commander Shepard.

She had beaten him to the penthouse, though.

He hung above Nassana and her clustered mercs, waiting for the perfect moment to drop behind them and strike. Commander Shepard stood at the other end of the penthouse, guns holstered but subtle biotics flaring warningly along her body. Nassana's ranting hinted at a past acquaintance with Shepard – was she there to save her, then? Nassana did not think so, spitting angered words at the human and her team. They accepted the onslaught almost placidly, unbothered by the asari's threats. He was not surprised; he had watched them destroy an entire tower's worth of mercenaries. The few surrounding Nassana presented little difficulty.

But despite the asari's paranoia, Shepard made no move towards Nassana. Instead, her gaze flickered up at the air vents, and a tiny smile pulled at her lips.

"I'm not an assassin, Nassana… but I am here for one."

Ah. So she _was_ here for him. Interesting.

Seeing his chance, Thane let go, and dropped soundlessly into the room.


	3. Accusation

_A/N - Fits into the larger plot Lobo and I are planning but I have tried not to drop too many spoilers into it! Want to keep some things secret!_

* * *

**Day 2 – Accusation**

"You two are together, aren't you."

Shepard blinked and looked over at the young drell. He was sat against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms folded against them, watching her reaction carefully.

His words were a statement of fact, not a question, but despite that she found herself staring stupidly at him. As far as she was aware, neither of them had given any indication that they were. Thane had wanted to wait before he told him.

"You and my father," he prompted, when no answer came. "Are you… together?"

For a moment there, the word had seemed to stick in his throat, like he didn't want to say it. She sighed softly, watching him for a long moment before she nodded.

"If that's how you want to put it... then, yes, I guess so."

Kolyat nodded and looked away, his brows drawing together in a frown. Shepard stayed quiet, letting him process her answer. Eventually, he looked back up at her, face set with a sudden hostility.

"You're not going to replace my mother," he said. Shepard flinched at the accusation – at the idea that he would think she'd try to, that Thane would even _want_ to.

But how else could he possibly feel? Irikah had died, and Thane had disappeared, and when he had finally come back he was with someone new. It had to hurt, even if it _had_ been ten years since his mother's death.

"I don't want to," she said eventually, her voice soft. "I couldn't. We are different people, Kolyat."

"So why does it feel like that's what he's trying to do?" Before she could answer, Kolyat had folded his arms across his chest and looked away sharply. When he continued, his tone was quieter – resolute and miserable. "He's different with you. Why is he happier with _you_ than he was with us?"

Shepard closed her eyes briefly, sighing inwardly. Kolyat hadn't seen much of her and Thane together, but apparently he had seen enough to draw his own conclusions, even if they were false. She wasn't about to say that – how would she know whether Thane was happier then or now? – but she couldn't leave him like that without answering.

"He isn't trying to replace her, Kolyat. He's told me about both of you, you know. I can tell just from the way he talks about her that he loved her a lot. That won't change. It can't. Caring about someone new doesn't mean you forget those in your past," she said, pausing briefly to smile slightly at her own word choice. "I realise drell don't forget anything but… well, you know what I mean."

The young drell nodded absently, still not looking at her. He was frowning deeply, apparently thinking about her words. Shepard smiled faintly, going over to the wall and sliding down it to sit on the floor as well, a little way along from him. He glanced briefly at her, then away again, only focusing on her with any finality when she spoke up again.

"You're his son, Kolyat. No matter what else happens – no matter how many mistakes he makes – that'll always mean something. He cares about you a whole lot." She smiled at him faintly. "I can tell that from how he talks about you, as well."

Kolyat snorted and looked away. "Then why's he always leaving?"

"He's trying, Kolyat. He wants to keep in touch, he wants to get to know you again. But it's not that easy. You know what he does, now… I know very well that you can't just flip a switch and turn that sort of training off."

"I guess so," he said eventually, frowning again. When he looked at her she was smiling at him, her own legs folded up to her chest, a mirror of his posture, though she had her ankles crossed and her arms around her knees.

"I don't want to be your mother, Kolyat," she said. "But I'd settle for being friends."


	4. Restless

_A/N - as with Accusation this one also fits in with the larger, which is post-ME2. Shepard and the Normandy are currently trying to stay off of Cerberus' radar following Shepard's rather explosive resignation at the Collector Base._

* * *

**3 – Restless**

Shepard was pacing.

It hadn't taken Thane very long to notice that the Commander didn't do sedentary activity very well. Apparently she could not be still for more than five minutes before she would fidget, unless she was sleeping, in which case it was only a matter of time before she woke up worrying about something and promptly got out of bed.

When there was work to be done – any work, even if it was inconsequential paperwork that no one actually cared about – Shepard simply could not stop herself from doing it. Many times she had worked so long and so hard that he would find her asleep at her desk, head resting on arms folded atop the myriad datapads she always had strewn all over it.

This, though, was different. She wasn't working, or even attempting to. He watched her as she rearranged her desk, putting datapads into piles and her notebook back on the shelf. She fed the fish, and was busily attacking her perpetually-messy armour locker when he finally broke the silence.

"What is bothering you, Siha?"

Crouched in front of her locker, she looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows arched faintly.

"What?"

Thane pushed himself up from where he had been lounging on the bed, sitting on the edge of it instead.

"You never tidy your armour away, unless you are worried about something and you cannot find anything else to occupy you," he said.

Shepard stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and stood up, turning to face him. She tucked her hair behind her ears, another anxious habit he'd picked up on. She always did it, despite the fact her hair always immediately escaped.

"I'm not worried," she said quietly. "I just… we've been hiding in deep-space for weeks. Staring at the same damn walls forever on end just _gets to me_."

"Ah. I see."

Shepard eyed him, leaning against the wall of lockers with her arms folded. He had one of his placid unreadable faces in place and, apparently, wasn't going to say anything else. She sighed heavily and pushed away from the wall, coming to sit beside him, dropping heavily onto the mattress.

"I know that's ridiculous. We'd be stuck in here anyway. But I guess it's because I know we can't just drop in at the Citadel without worrying about bloody _Cerberus._"

Damn him for knowing her well; if he created an awkward silence she could never help but fill it.

"I did not know you were claustrophobic, Siha," Thane commented, curling an arm around her shoulders. She smiled vaguely at him.

"I'm not. It's… humans call it cabin fever. I'm stuck on the ship with nothing to do, so I'm getting… irritable. We don't even have a mission to plan. It's driving me crazy."

"I see…"

Shepard sighed again and leaned on him, resting her head on his shoulder and cuddling up to him. He obligingly put his other arm around her.

"I know it's silly. I've been on spaceships for years," she mumbled into his shoulder, her tone amused as she continued, "But then I've never been stuck on a spaceship on the run from a militant terrorist organisation."

Thane's voice was a soft amused chuckle in her ear as he leaned down to nuzzle her hair aside, so that he could kiss her cheek.

"There is a first time for everything, Siha. I believe that is another of your species' phrases."

"It is," she said, smiling vaguely as she looking up at him through her lashes. "But this is one thing I could really have done without experiencing."

It seemed that, no matter how irritable she was feeling from being unable to leave the ship, she was distracted easily enough from her restlessness… and, for once, perfectly willing to be distracted. He was smiling as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Then let me help you keep your mind from dwelling on it, Siha."


	5. Snowflake

**4 – Snowflake**

He found Shepard in the Port Observatory, clutching a drink and staring morosely out of the large window. Snowflakes whirled and danced as they drifted past the reinforced glass.

She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the door slide open, shooting a weary smile at him.

"Thane…"

He frowned faintly, padding lightly over to her. Finding her curled up in the lounge on her own, nursing a mug of steaming tea and glaring unhappily out of the window was not exactly a regular occurrence. She mostly darted in and out to grab wine from the bar, before retreating to the sanctuary of the Loft.

"Are you well, Siha?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, apparently not understanding why he would be asking such a thing.

"I'm fine. Why'd you think I wasn't?" she asked, shuffling along a little. It was a pretty open invitation for him to sit beside her; which he did, immediately slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"You never sit in here alone," he said. "And you do not look… content."

Shepard smiled vaguely.

"Ah. I see. Well," she said, gesturing to the window and the world outside with her mug. "Of all the places to stop, why'd we have to stop on _Noveria?_"

Thane looked at her blankly for a moment, both sets of eyelids flickering as he tried to understand her reasoning.

"I was under the impression _you _picked our destination," he said finally.

"I only picked it because it was the closest. I hate this place. Snow and bureaucrats and more bloody snow," she said, her tone deadpan as she added, "Oh, and the last time I was here, Binary Helix had resurrected the Rachni."

"…The Rachni."

Shepard laughed softly, grinning sideways at him. The Rachni thing wasn't one that the Council had been keen to publicise, and so it hadn't been. Nevertheless, ships resembling the ancient profiles of Rachni ships had been seen, but always retreated quickly before anyone could get close. It wasn't surprising that he hadn't heard about it.

She took a sip of her tea and rested the mug on her knee before she continued, explaining how they had come to Noveria to find Matriarch Benezia and had left having released a Rachni Queen… and having uncovered more plots and conspiracies than she liked to think about, most of them linking back to Saren.

"Hell of a mess," she said, quietly. "And Benezia… well."

"You could not have saved her, Siha."

"I know that now. I wish I could have. But there was nothing I could have done," she said. She sighed softly, shrugging her shoulders faintly as her gaze drifted back out of the window. "But you see why Noveria isn't exactly my favourite place."

Thane hummed quietly. "That is understandable."

"Besides," she said, cuddling closer to him as if the cold could get to her through the hull of the ship. "I _hate _snow."


	6. Haze

**5 – Haze**

It always rained on Kahje. That's what Thane had told her.

To actually _be _here, and to find it not raining, was something of a surprise. It was actually quite beautiful – the arcing shapes of the drell's habitat domes in the distance, clouds drifting overhead, blue ocean as far as the eye could see.

Despite the ocean-dwelling preference of the hanar, much of the architecture could have been plucked from any number of alien worlds – though theirs seemed to favour sweeping arches and flowing lines over striking angular styles like the asari, or blocky practicality like the turians.

Shepard leaned against the wall that ran along the edge of the balcony which overlooked a sheer cliff face. The Normandy hung in the air above, tethered to its dock. It was only due to her status as a Spectre that they'd been allowed to dock at all.

Funny how the brightest places were often the ones to hide the darkest secrets.

The sun was setting by the time the others started returning to the Normandy – they had spent so much time stuck in deep space, even the threat of the Reapers wasn't going to stop them getting out of the ship whenever they could.

Thane, as silent as always, appeared beside her, smiling faintly as he joined her at the railing.

"It's as beautiful as you told me," she said, leaning on him when he put his arm around her waist. "_And _it hasn't rained yet."

"Yet," he answered, his tone amused. "I am sure it will soon."

Shepard made a soft _hmm _noise in reply, smiling slightly as they fell into companionable silence. Rain or no rain, just watching the sun go down was… oddly peaceful. Standing there with him, she could almost forget, for a moment, that there was a war at all.

The burnt orange disc of the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the myriad clouds alight with blazing pink and orange. Mist was beginning to creep across the floor, making everything hazy and ethereal as it pooled amongst the rocks and floated gently over the water.

She'd never really been one for admiring the view – but even she could appreciate the way the fading light lit up the sky and the sea.

"You know," Shepard said eventually, eying the ominous grey underbellies of the clouds clustering overhead. "I think you might be right."

Thane followed her gaze, brows arching faintly.

"I think it would be a good idea to head back," he said. She was already reaching for his hand, wanting to get back to the ship before the rain began – both for his sake and for hers. She wasn't keen on the idea of getting soaked, particularly when she was in her jeans instead of her rather more waterproof armour.

"Come on," she said with a smile.

By the time they got back to the Normandy, it was pouring down, and they clattered into the airlock in an effort to get out of it as quickly as possible. Shepard laughed as she leaned on the wall, ringing rain out of her hair.

"Well," she said, grinning. "At least it isn't snowing."


	7. Flame

_A/N - I was told the prompt 'Flame' brought to mind the image of the flame of a candle, and therefore I should write about a candle-lit dinner._

_This is what happened._

* * *

**6 – Flame**

Shepard smiled vaguely to herself as she wandered through the Citadel arm-in-arm with Thane. It was a nice change of pace, being able to spend a few hours away from the crew and the usual chaos, and to just be together without her having to think about her duties… or her paperwork.

That last she was sure Thane was unendingly pleased about; the one thing that distracted her more than he did was her work, and she knew her utter single-mindedness when confronted with it both enamoured and exasperated him.

"So where is this restaurant, anyway?" she asked, smiling sideways at him when he looked across at her. He smiled back faintly.

"Considering you have spent so much time here, Siha, you have a remarkably terrible recollection of locations," he answered, amusement in his tone as he added, "even for a human."

Shepard laughed and nudged him.

"Oh, very funny. Our memories are not _that _bad."

"And yet you still cannot remember where your armour is meant to be stored."

He was wearing one of his careful blank looks, but Shepard knew him well enough to see the sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes. She rolled her own eyes at him, grinning.

"Leaving it on the floor is a personal choice, Thane, not a lack of memory. Besides, I need to clear out my armour locker."

Thane arched a brow delicately. "Really. I hadn't noticed."

She grinned. Her messiness was one of the few things that could provoke Thane into any sort of irritation. The first (and last) time he had been moved enough by her chaotic arrangement of armour panels – scattered carelessly on her desk and the floor beneath it – he had had the misfortune to see what, exactly, her armour lockers contained. Something of a secret hoarder, Shepard had stashed every piece of armour she'd ever bought in there. Getting rid of the stuff she never used was simply out of the question.

What if she needed spares?

"I _did _warn you," she said. "You were lucky it didn't all fall out on you."

The drell made an unamused _hrm _noise. It was only because he had promptly slammed the door again that he had prevented an array of N7 gauntlets from spilling out onto the floor. He scowled faintly at her, but, when he found her grinning hugely at him, he found that he could not keep it in place for long. He sighed softly in defeat, and smiled slightly back at her.

"I am also lucky that you did not choose to wear your armour for tonight," he said. It was her turn to scowl, an unimpressed but fond look – her propensity for turning up _everywhere _in heavy armour was, apparently, legendary.

"I can go back and change if you'd like," she said sweetly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Thane gave her an appraising look, gaze running swiftly over her and her current outfit. She was wearing relatively simple attire, but he seemed to approve – a silky camisole top, red, under her leather jacket, and a pair of tight jeans. She'd wanted to wear her combat boots, but Miranda had cornered her at the last minute and forced her into a pair of little black heeled pumps instead.

He hummed softly, smiling slightly.

"I think, perhaps, not," he said.

She grinned. "I suspect armour is not really appropriate attire for a restaurant, right?"

"I suspect not, no."

"You know you said armour is inappropriate restaurant gear? I think jeans are, too," Shepard whispered, leaning over the table. The restaurant was far fancier than she'd expected and planned for – it was decorated like something from an old movie, with candle-lit tables and low light.

"You look perfectly lovely," Thane told her.

"I feel so underdressed right now," she griped, glancing around the restaurant. Lots of the other women there were wearing _cocktail dresses… _and some of them had given her a disapproving up-and-down look when she'd walked in.

She couldn't help the small smile coming to her lips as she looked back at him; Thane was staring at her, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down her spine.

Apparently, Thane did not agree with her, and he certainly did not agree with the sneering women who'd given her such unimpressed glances.

"You look_… delicious_, Siha," he murmured.

She squirmed in her seat; the tone of his voice was doing funny things to her heart rate. She tried to ignore the fact that she was beginning to blush. Her reaction brought the ghost of a smile to his lips.

She scowled fondly at him; the infernal alien knew _exactly _what he did to her, and it seemed he fully intended to utilise that ability.

"Stop that," she chided, but it came out breathy and soft. She was smiling, too, completely ruining her attempt at being stern.

"Of course, Siha," he agreed amiably.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him, though she was still smiling vaguely. He was wearing a far too innocent expression. His hands were folded neatly on the table and he was watching her impassively, his body language as unreadable as always.

Presently, however, her attention was drawn away from him as she caught a glance of the waiter in her peripheral vision. Imminent food was _always_ enough to distract her, even from Thane. The drell smiled to himself – biotics like himself and Shepard needed more calories than others, but even so, her average consumption was mildly ridiculous.

They were halfway through desert when the gunshots started.

Shepard was out of her seat and on the ground before the second one was fired. The restaurant erupted into screams around her as she started moving through it in a crouch, Thane hot on her heels.

"You brought your gun," he said dryly from behind her as they ducked behind the counter. She glanced over her shoulder at him, an eyebrow arched faintly. He had his Phalanx pistol in his hand, poised to shoot.

"So did you."

He tipped his head minutely in response, the only outward sign of a reaction. He had his unreadable expression firmly in place, not about to explain himself in the middle of a gunfight. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to edge along the bar, peeping out around the slick metal surface.

She retreated sharply as a bullet smacked into the wall behind her, right where her head had been a moment before.

"They know we're here, then," she whispered. Thane only nodded, his neutral expression hardening a little. She knew why, of course; sticking her head out wasn't exactly a smart idea without armour and ablative shielding between her and the bullets. She ignored the look he was giving her and continued, "They're only shooting at us. That means they're _here _for us. I'll distract 'em, you flank 'em."

"_Alena!_" he hissed in a vain attempt to get her to stop, but she wasn't listening. She was already zipping out from behind the bar in a haze of blue. Thane sighed and headed in the opposite direction, even as a hail of bullets erupted in her wake; it was either stick with her plan, or stay put and watch her get shot.

He moved nimbly from cover to cover, staying low and hidden. He could see Shepard across the restaurant, hurling herself from spot to spot, disappearing behind tables only to leap out, cloaked in a Barrier, before promptly disappearing again. Any time she got close enough to a merc, she lashed out with a stunning punch, loaded with biotics.

Thane smiled inwardly. Providing she kept her barrier stable and kept on moving, these amateurs were far too slow to harm her. Standing, he fired off several quick shots, turned, and dropped back into cover.

Between them, they cleared the mercs out in barely a few minutes. The last two fell with the crack of her Paladin followed sharply by the answering echo of his own pistol. He glanced down at the dead mercenary lying at her feet as he appeared beside her.

"Batarians. I wonder who sent them."

She nudged the lifeless alien with her toe.

"Not any gang colours I know of, but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. I somehow seem to attract these people… this is why we can never go anywhere nice," she said, smiling sheepishly at him. "Sorry."


	8. Formal

**7 – Formal**

Shepard fidgeted, staring at herself in the mirror. She hated formal occasions – playing nice with politicians, fiddly little cocktail snacks that barely even counted as food and, her personal least favourite, evening wear.

Not that she was opposed to fancy clothing, it was just that it was damned impractical.

This particular dress was a sleek black contraption, knee length and tight. She ran her palms down her front, smoothing the fabric over her stomach. It was… nice, she supposed. But if she had to wear it for hours she imagined it would get pretty uncomfortable, and the tight fit around her legs restricted her movement.

And what if she had to run anywhere?

Always a possibility with her; if she had been a planet-bound citizen, she wouldn't be able to go to the supermarket without something blowing up.

She sighed and stepped out of the bathroom into the cabin. Tali was sat on the sofa, laying out several overly decadent necklaces for her. The quarian was, of course, still in her environment suit – however, her usual purple fabric wrap had been replaced with a much longer and fancier one, artfully arranged into graceful drapes. It was still purple, but the pattern was embroidered rather than printed, and it was embellished here and there with beads.

"I can't even _walk_ in this one," Shepard griped as she made her way down the stairs – an action which exposed her exaggeration. Tali looked up at her, head tipped, and Shepard obligingly turned around on the spot so she could see the entire dress.

"But it looks good. Suits you," she said. "I think."

Both of them started laughing at once. Tali had as much knowledge of human fashion as Shepard had of quarians'. She was only here because the others didn't seem to trust Shepard to turn up in a dress instead of armour, and Tali was the only one not still getting ready herself.

"It's uncomfortable."

"Change it then," Tali suggested, waving a hand at the various other items Shepard had abandoned all over the bed. "How about the red one?"

Several minutes later, Shepard was back in the bathroom, wriggling into the red dress. This one had thin straps and was close-fitting to the thigh, but at least it wasn't restricting her knees. It was longer, too, flaring out and flowing below the knee.

"At least I can fit a pistol in a calf holster under this one," she announced, looking down at herself as she moved back into the cabin. "That's a start."

She paused when no answer came, and looked up, finding the quarian staring at her with her head tipped.

"Tali?"

"That one. Definitely," Tali said in a rush, looking down at the clutter of jewellery all over the table. She selected one as she stood, dashing over to Shepard and holding it up to her neck. Shepard got the impression she was frowning critically behind her helmet. She nodded after a moment. "Yes. Try this."

Twenty minutes later Shepard was stood in the elevator, fidgeting again.

Tali had made her try on the various necklaces before finally insisting the first one – a large teardrop pendant on a heavy chain – was the best. Both Miranda and Liara had been up to check on her (they really didn't trust her fashion choices, evidently) and she had subsequently shooed them all out to finish getting ready herself.

The elevator stopped at the crew deck and she stepped out, feeling self conscious. She'd banished Thane back to the Life Support room while she got ready, and that was where she found him, his back to the door when she entered.

No matter how irritating the politicians were, and even if wearing the ridiculous gown got on her nerves all night, it was all sort of worth it to see him in a suit. It was, she thought, a look which fit him perfectly.

He turned when he heard the door open, smiling faintly. He paused when he saw her, the smile faltering a little as he ran his gaze over her.

"I know! Me, in a dress. I look ridiculous, I know – "

"You look _beautiful, _Siha," he interrupted, taking her hands in his. The speed with which he was suddenly right in front of her surprised her – sometimes she forgot how fast he could move, until he displayed it in such an open manner.

"Thane…" she murmured. She couldn't help the smile that rose on her lips, looking up at him through her lashes. "I… thank you."

Thane hummed softly, smiling faintly. He released one of her hands, resting his own on her waist to pull her closer to him. Her smile became a smirk, smoothing the collar of his jacket with her fingers.

"You don't look so bad yourself."

He was laughing softly as he bent to kiss her. "Thank you, Siha."

"Come on," she said when they parted, grinning up at him. "We're gonna be late."


	9. Companion

**8 – Companion**

When she had first recruited the assassin on Ilium, she had thought him cold and aloof – arrogant even. He'd told her later that his own pride would not allow him to let her kill Nassana; he had survived that night out of sheer conceit.

As she had got to know him, however, she came to realise that the veneer of ice was just that. A veneer, a mask, put in place to hold the world at bay.

She knew how that felt.

Since the situation with Kolyat, he had changed. Still calm and unflappable in a fight, but when she ventured down to Life Support to talk to him, he was… different. Suddenly the chilly assassin she'd first met in Dantius Towers was not quite so detached.

He had proved to be quite warm and friendly as he had opened up to her. He had told her about his son, his wife… her death.

"_You're the only friend I've made in ten years." _

"_Friends, huh? Well it's a start." _

She'd wanted to facepalm at those words. Fortunately, he'd seemed amused despite the _horrendous_ line. Since then, he had only warmed to her more – she knew it was crazy, flirting so close to a suicide mission with a man who was dying regardless.

But somehow, that just did not matter. It had been a long time since she'd met anyone who treated her like Thane did. So many people only saw Commander Shepard, up on a pedestal. Thane saw the woman behind the title, and treated her as an equal, not a hero.

They worked well together. His propensity for sniping complemented her preference for up-close-and-personal biotics. Whenever a misjudged charge landed her in trouble, he would be there, through the scope, watching out for her.

They were foils of one another; fire and ice. Her, all boundless energy and chaotic violence – him, perfect calm and poise in the face of anything.

As much as she had tried to avoid it, it had been inevitable. She _had _come to care for him, and part of her was terrified at the prospect that she had come to think of him as far more than a friend. She couldn't pretend they were simple companions any longer.

Wondering if she was crazy for considering it, she took his hands when she sat down opposite him, the frown on her face telling him she had something to say to him.

"Maybe it's too soon to call this love," she said. "But… I care about you, Thane."

His answering smile told her she hadn't been wrong.


	10. Move

**9 – Move**

Shepard knew it had been a bad idea to agree to it the moment she hit the sparring mat for the first time.

She managed to roll away and get back to her feet before he could pin her, but he was _relentless._ She was certainly not bad at hand-to-hand combat – not the best, sure, but pretty good at it – but Thane's abilities far surpassed her own.

This was a _terrible _idea.

She danced to the side, avoiding a quick jab at her stomach and realising too late that it was a feint. The _real _strike tripped her, sending her crashing to the sparring mats again.

She kicked out with one foot, and missed – he wasn't there anymore. She rolled, hurling herself upright and immediately having to block him.

Two minutes later she was down again, sprawled on her back on the mats. She waved a hand vaguely, a request for mercy, scowling at him as he sidled over to her.

"Don't look so damn smug," she muttered at him. "You knew you'd win all along."

"I have seen you fight others, Siha," Thane replied, smiling faintly as he held out a hand to help her up. "And I have seen you win."

"Yeah, and most of _them _aren't assassins."

He laughed softly as he pulled her to her feet. She was still scowling at him.

"This _was _you idea," he said. Shepard grumbled incoherently at that, running her fingers through her mussed hair.

She wasn't about to admit that it was just impossible to concentrate on fighting when who she was fighting was _him_. He was ridiculously distracting… and the worst part of it was that he knew it.

He didn't even have the decency to be distracted by her in return.

Muttering to herself the entire way, she wandered over to where she'd deposited a couple of bottles of water on the benches. The hangar held a lot more than the shuttle these days, serving as a combined hangar, cargo hold and gym – though the benches had appeared after the occasional sparring match turned into a regular sport. Joker even had a betting pool going.

There was no one down here but her and Thane for now, however, and she was rather glad about that. She'd had her ass handed to her – which she should have expected.

As she unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to her mouth, she was musing about their relative skills. Her hand-to-hand techniques worked best when combined with her biotics, which was fine when she was punching out husks, but not so fine when she was sparring with Thane. Not only would that be cheating, one of the rules of the ship-wide sparring club was _no serious fighting_ – and that meant nothing that could cause any actual lasting injury.

Which meant, unable to use biotics as she was, her close-combat skills were no match for Thane's.

Shepard turned around to admit defeat… and frowned when she found herself staring at the empty hangar.

The realisation of what he was up to send tingles up her spine, hairs raising on the back of her neck – the instinctual animal response of prey that knows the unseen predator is watching.

"Thane, stop it," she said, knowing it would do no good. Well, she hadn't said they were done. She hadn't told him he'd won.

Her gaze darted around the hangar, searching. She briefly considered running for the elevator, but she knew that would do no good either. It'd simply put her out in the open, an easier target.

Keeping her eyes on her surroundings, she reached behind her to put her drink back down on the bench before she started moving. He couldn't have gotten that far… could he? He could certainly disappear in an eye-blink.

"Dammit, Thane," she muttered to herself.

"Yes, Siha?"

She sucked in a breath as his arms went around her, pinning her to him. Not only was he faster than she would ever be, he could be as silent as a ghost.

She scowled at him over her shoulder, determined to pretend his appearance hadn't startled her even though both of them knew that it had.

"Fine!" she grumbled. "You win!"

An amused hum, then;

"And what, my Siha, do I win?"

Shepard forced the scowl to stay in place, but she knew she was smiling. She turned in his arms, sliding her own around his middle.

"Oh," she said thoughtfully, the smile turning into a smirk. "I'm sure I'll think of something."


	11. Silver

_A/N - Femshep's voice actor is Jennifer Hale, who is Canadian-born, and it is implied that Shepard is also, canonically, of Canadian descent. However, these drabbles are written with my custom Shepard Alena in mind, and the voice I have always given her when I write her is somewhat British - probably because I am British and I use British anachronisms._

_Whatever the reason, it led to me headcanoning that this Earthborn Shepard is, indeed, English._

_The reason this little note is needed is because this prompt is set in London, though it should also be noted that this is before the Reapers attacked (assume all these prompts are a slight AU)._

_Bear with me on this one. It came from a single mental image that the word Silver made me think of._

* * *

**10 – Silver**

"You grew up here?"

Shepard glanced over at him, leaning against the railing. They were stood on Westminster Bridge, looking out across the Thames and the historic buildings that lined its banks. To their left, Westminster Palace and Big Ben, glowing with their yellow lighting, the white spires of the Abbey behind them; ahead of them along the river, the ancient Ministry of Defence buildings, joined not so long ago by the London branch of Alliance Headquarters; and across the river to their right, the massive circle of the London eye, lit up with neon and still gently turning despite the late hour.

Beyond them on either side of the river, standing in contrast with the pieces of old London, were the towering points of the new city, gigantic skyscrapers, metallic and angular, reaching ever higher every time a new one was added. It hadn't changed much since she'd been here last – a few new high-rise buildings altering the skyline, a few old ones gone.

"Not quite here. But London, yes," she said, smiling faintly. "Wasn't in Westminster much, not that getting around is all that difficult these days. The old Tube system's still there, but it's faster now. And having taxis that can fly above the traffic has its benefits."

"You told me once you grew up on the streets," Thane said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral. She knew that was coming; it was inevitable. The cautious tone was simply to hide the fact he was trying to prod her into talking about herself – the verbal equivalent of one of his unreadable looks.

"The Reds found me in Whitechapel," she said. "I was only a few days old. No one had any idea who my parents were or how to find them. All I had was the hospital nametag with the surname."

"Did they not look for them?"

She shrugged vaguely. "If they did I doubt they looked very hard. They just took me in and kept me as one of their own." She snorted softly, shaking her head to herself. "One more drone to add to their anti-alien ranks. They didn't even give me a name. I was just Shepard for years."

Thane was smiling wryly when she looked back at him. She arched a questioning eyebrow.

"Strange. You do not seem to be anti-alien to me."

Shepard laughed softly, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

"You'd know."

"Indeed."

She rolled her eyes at him, grinning vaguely as she looked away. It was a clear night, the dark sky studded with stars and the fleeting lights of skycars zipping overhead. The big round disc of the moon hung big and bright in the sky, its reflection glittering silver on the ripples of the river.

"The _Reds_ are xenophobic," she said. "I'm not. It's why I left them. Joined the Alliance and left Earth when I was 18."

"You wanted to leave?"

Shepard shrugged again. "Nothing for me here. I was just a street kid from the slums. No family, no formal education. It was the Alliance or nothing."

"You do not give yourself enough credit, Siha," he said quietly. "A child from the slums, perhaps, but look at how much you have accomplished."

Her eyebrows were raised faintly, lips curving into that lop-sided smile he found so endearing.

"Are you trying to flatter me, Sere Krios?"

He was smiling back at her as he reached for her hand. "Perhaps."

She rolled her eyes at him again, more theatrically than before. She was grinning, this time, lacing her fingers with his.

"You're transparent. Come on," she said as they started to walk, neither of them caring about the glances they received – an alien and a human, hand in hand.

"Yes… we should be getting back," he said, glancing sideways at her. "Maybe tomorrow you can show me some of the places you mentioned."

She grinned to herself, squeezing his fingers. Sometimes she cursed his ability to remember everything, to never forget a flippant remark about her past said weeks or even months ago.

"Mmm. Perhaps."


	12. Prepared

_A/N - Pre-suicide mission/romance scene. Can be considered a prequel to the romance scene._

* * *

**11 – Prepared**

_I have worked so hard. _

_Meditated and prayed, _

_atoned for the evils I've done._

_Prepared._

Before he'd met her, he'd been prepared. His coming death was something that, at the time, had not bothered him – he hadn't been scared to die. He'd had nothing to live _for_. He'd simply been filling his numbered days with work, attempting to create a little good in the galaxy before he crossed the sea.

Her arrival had changed things.

For so long his life had been nothing but the usual work. Endless dangerous missions stacked one atop the other were chosen, not because he didn't care if he died, but because he'd _wanted _to. He had sought death through others and never achieved it, snuffing them out before they could do the same to him. Mercenaries, corrupt politicians, and various others had died at his hand. The Dantius Commission should have gone just the same.

Yes, Shepard had changed things. Her appearance at the Tower had surprised him, and it had pushed him forwards. It was no longer simple, anymore – she was competition, a challenge.

And his own pride would never have allowed her to kill Nassana. If she'd been there to kill him, then so be it. The reality had been an offer. A job. A suicide mission – one that promised to be rather more conclusive than his months and years of contracts.

Things had not gone entirely smoothly.

He had never expected to find the human Spectre to be so personable. She had insisted on checking up on him frequently, coming down to the crew deck to sit and talk with him. He had found himself opening up to her – trusting her enough to ask for her help with Kolyat. She hadn't even hesitated in agreeing to do so, as if it was unthinkable that she would do anything other.

She was a remarkable woman… and he had found himself coming to care for her over their weeks working together. He was almost always by her side, or sniping as she dived into the fray up close, watching over her from afar.

She had made things… complicated.

A suicide mission had been a tempting offer when he had not cared if he survived, but now that he had met her – fell for her – it had loomed on the horizon promising to cut short their already limited time together.

And now… now it was here. They were a few hours out from the Omega 4 Relay and he was sat in Life Support, his thoughts in turmoil. Either or both of them could die beyond the relay, and he found that he couldn't bare the thought of that happening without having told her how he felt – about himself, about _them. _

A few months back, he would have accepted his inevitable demise so readily, but now he had to admit he was no longer prepared to die.


	13. Knowledge

**12 – Knowledge**

_A vast civilisation, spanning the galaxy. Ignorance born of arrogance, they thought they were superior, though their dominance came through technology borrowed from a long-dead race. _

_Forcing all sentient species into an alliance, and crushing all who refused. _

_The Metacon War, against a mechanical intelligence, leaving the Empire damaged but intact, giving way to a far greater threat. _

_Machine gods, tearing down the sky. Thousands dying, screaming, as the world around them burns…_

Shepard woke sharply, sucking in a breath as she jolted out of the nightmare. Though she had been technically dead for much of that time, over two years had passed since she had touched the Beacon on Eden Prime, yet it still plagued her dreams.

It was one thing to dream about Reapers; quite another to watch the Protheans dying around her as if she were there.

"Siha?"

She blinked and looked over at Thane, his dark eyes concerned in the low light given off by the aquarium. She sighed softly; she didn't like waking him like this, but he was such a damned light sleeper.

"Just… it's nothing."

The drell hummed softly beside her, watching her quietly. He knew she was trying to shrug it off; he always knew. Knowing it was pointless trying to convince him otherwise, she sighed again and shuffled closer to him, tucking her head under his chin.

"Nightmares?" he asked, curling his arms around her. She nodded into his chest.

"Yeah. It's nothing, really. Just… the usual."

"What was it this time?"

There were several usual things. The pressures of being Commander Shepard caught up with her often enough that her sleep was rarely dream free. It was a rare night that she didn't wake from a nightmare, whether it was Reapers, memories of the Collector Base, her fears of losing him, or her own death replayed endlessly in her head.

"The Beacon," she mumbled. Thane hummed sympathetically, the deep rumble vibrating in his throat.

"I see."

It was one of those that was frequent enough that he already knew what that meant. The Beacon memories were some of the worst – it was hard to be hopeful about their chances when the Protheans' fate was laid out so plainly.

"It's just… flashes," she explained quietly. "But… it's not like… like watching a video. It's like remembering. I can _feel _it…"

She shuddered a bit, shaking her head to herself as she trailed off. She'd told it all to him before.

"We have an advantage. We know they are coming."

"Knowledge is power, right?"

She knew he was smiling from the tone in his voice.

"I believe that is the human phrase, yes."

"Well sometimes knowledge is a pain in the arse," she griped, snuggling up to him. His fingers were stroking idly through her hair and at the nape of her neck, knowing the simple touch relaxed her. "And no one believes us anyway."

"They will."

Shepard pulled back a little to look up at him, eyebrows arched delicately.

"Do you really believe that?"

Thane smiled faintly at her, leaning over to press a light kiss to her forehead.

"They have not faced the things that you have, Siha," he said. "They find it difficult to believe. But they will come to see the wisdom in your words."

She sighed softly, letting her eyes close.

"Then I hope it's in time."


	14. Denial

_A/N - Similar in theme to Companion, possibly set just before.  
_

* * *

**13 – Denial**

It was crazy. She knew it was crazy.

And yet, no matter how many times she told herself that it was, she found she couldn't help ploughing on anyway.

At first, she'd found him merely interesting. She'd never met a drell before, and her overbearing curiosity had sent her back to Life Support time and again despite the chilly, distant attitude he'd had at first.

Yeah, that was it. He was fascinating because he was new, unknown.

He began to open up to her when he asked for her help with his son; he had told her of his wife, his work, and of his culture. He told her of his training, of life on Kahje, of the hanar.

And he admitted he had come to care for her.

She knew it was crazy, but she cared about him, too.

They were certainly excellent partners in battle, with complementary skills despite the contrasting personalities that wielded them. She enjoyed their talks, and apparently he did too.

And she knew she shouldn't encourage what was obviously happening, but it wasn't like she was trying to prevent it, either. Besides, they were just friends, weren't they?

Right. Maybe if she told it to herself often enough maybe she'd start to believe it.

It wasn't that she didn't like the idea. It was just that it was insane to even think about it, so close to a suicide mission.

She'd never had much luck with romance. Maybe she just had terrible taste in men, or maybe just in _human _men, but most of the ones she'd ever dated had been jerks.

Or ended up dead. Every time she allowed herself get close to someone, the black vortex of bad luck and lethal danger that surrounded her swallowed them up. It had happened on Akuze, it had happened on Virmire.

And it was happening right here.

She sighed and ran a hand over her face, rubbing her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. He was a drell, and she was not, and he was dying… but she was falling for him regardless.

No matter how crazy it was, no matter how much her own fear wanted her to believe she wasn't, she knew deep inside, that she was falling in love with him.

And it was becoming increasingly difficult to deny it.


	15. Wind

_A/N – Set on Illium, sometime after ME2. _

* * *

**14 – Wind**

It was the little things about her that he found so endearing.

The way her smile curved up on one side more than on the other; the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, only to have it escape again a moment later.

Or the way it moved when the wind caught it, floating in the air about her head as it was now.

Thane smiled faintly as he watched her. She was studying the datapad the asari merchant had handed her, a small frown knitting her brows together in thought. The breeze settled, her hair falling back into place – tousled now, as it was when he ran his fingers through it.

Before he had met her, he had never found a human quite as beautiful as he found her. It was… strange. He had come to care for her as a colleague, and then as a friend, never dreaming they would end up where they were now. At first he had wondered if they were being foolish – their difference seemed greater than their similarities.

He had realised since then that differences did not have to be difficulties.

In fact, it was her differences that so fascinated him. Her hair was just one of those things, and a remarkable one it was at that. It was formed of thousands of tiny strands; when he touched it, it flowed over his fingers like silk. Blonde, she called it. Light and slightly golden, yet it reflected light in hundreds of different shades.

It danced around her face as she shook her head, thrusting the datapad back at the merchant. The asari scrambled to haggle, offering discounts and better deals. Alena stepped closer to the kiosk, pale face illuminated by the soft light of the holographic displays.

She insisted her skin was too pale, her face too angular to be beautiful. He disagreed. There was a smattering of faintly darker markings across the bridge of her nose – freckles, she'd told him. They reminded him a little of the speckled scales his own species often had.

Human skin was so soft, seemingly delicate, in comparison with his own species' tough scales. When he touched her cheek or took her hand – alien in itself, with its five separate fingers – the surface of her skin was smooth and warm, gently pliable under his fingers, and yet this fragile-seeming shell covered lean, taut muscle.

As she turned away from the kiosk she smiled graciously and thanked the merchant, before turning away and coming over to him. She was grinning triumphantly at her successful haggling.

"I did it," she announced. Her eyes were sparkling mischievously. Another difference, small thought it was – bright green irises set on white, not uncommon amongst other species but as alien to his kind as the rest of her.

"So I see."

She laughed, a throaty chuckle which came along with a sly smirk as she took his hand, fingers curling around his.

"C'mon," she said cheerfully. "I want to see if I can get those new shotgun upgrades as well."

"As you wish, Siha."

He was smiling indulgently as she pulled him after her. She beamed back at him, with the wind catching in her hair once more.


	16. Order

_A/N - When trying to work out what to do with the word 'Order', Lobo commented 'law and order!' and it grew from there. So here is the rewritten interrogation scene. I always found this scene awkwardly written/scripted. If you're anything other than a full renegade you lack the capacity to end it quickly – though it's rumoured that there were meant to be paragon interrupts as well. _

* * *

**15 – (Law and) Order**

"He'll expect me to get him out of this."

Captain Bailey sounded rather exasperated at the entire mess. They watched as two C-sec officers hauled Elias Kelham into the interrogation room; the criminal was spitting curses the entire way.

"Not today, I think," Thane said quietly. Bailey started to nod, then frowned as his omnitool routed an incoming message.

"_Captain. His lawyer's here. Bet Elias has his VI set to page him if C-sec gets within ten metres."_ Sergeant Haron's voice announced, sounding irritated. Shepard and Thane exchanged a glance; if Kelham's advocate intervened they'd never get the information they needed.

"I'll stall him," Bailey said, glancing back at the Commander. "Get in there and work fast."

Shepard nodded, turning her gaze to Thane. He had his usual careful mask in place. If he had any doubts that they could do this, he wasn't giving it away.

"We should question him together," he said. "Keep the pressure on. Do you have any thoughts on how we approach this?"

"Hmm. Convince him we'll put a bullet in his head if he doesn't talk," she said. "Once he's scared he'll cooperate."

"Very well. I'll pretend we're ready to kill him. We can't push too hard thought," he answered. "We need information more than we need a corpse."

A brief smile flashed across her features.

"That's why _you _are playing bad cop, not me."

"Get me out of these restraints, Bailey. Pretty funny bringing me down here like this…" Kelham was ranting as they walked in. He trailed off when he saw them, drell and human side by side, both of them with their hands held behind their backs. "Who the hell are you two?"

Shepard walked nonchalantly behind the chair as Thane went to lean on the wall before him. He folded his arms, quiet and menacing, just staring at him with those unfathomable black eyes.

"You hired an assassin," she said, pacing behind the chair, just out of sight. "We need to know who you want killed. You tell us, you can go."

"I wanna see my advocate."

"You apparently have not noticed that _we _are not C-sec," Thane put in. "No deals. No due processes. No advocate."

"Is that supposed to _scare _me?" Kelham snapped, leaning forwards as far as his restraints would allow. His voice dropped threateningly. "You two are in _way _over your heads. Bailey won't let you touch me."

"Bailey isn't here," Thane countered. "We are. You're dealing with us, not Bailey."

Kelham dropped back into his chair, a nasty smirk on his face.

"What are you, frog boy? Her little _sidekick?_ Hey, kid," he said, turning his head to look at Shepard out of the corner of his eye. "You gonna bore me into confessing? You ain't shit. Come on, hit me. I dare you."

Shepard felt her jaw clench, fists tightening at her sides. This was precisely why she'd told Thane to play bad cop. If she had been, she'd have been tempted to take him up on his offer; Thane was far more restrained.

Not that she thought the man didn't deserve to loose a few teeth… but she doubted it'd actually help.

"No, huh?" he continued. "Didn't think you had the balls."

Shepard glanced at the drell; he was still leaning against the wall, radiating menace, but she knew him well enough now to see the minute signs that he wasn't entirely calm showing through the mask. His expression had tightened a little. He was worried – this was taking too long.

Well. So much for good cop.

"Let me tell you something, Elias," she said lightly. "We're in hurry, and you're in the way."

Kelham snorted.

"I ain't telling you sh—"

He stopped abruptly as Shepard stepped into his field of vision, neatly resting the muzzle of her Carnifex on his head. When she spoke, her voice was calm and cold and _deadly_.

"My name's Shepard. I'm a Spectre. I don't have to tell you what that means, do I?"

Kelham gulped visibly. Who hadn't heard of _her?_ His voice was tiny and all but inaudible when he managed to croak out an answer.

"…No."

"Good boy. Fortunately for you, I don't give a damn what else you're up to. But you're going to tell me who you got that contract out on. Think carefully before you give me bad information. This is very important, Elias," she said, flicking the safety off with her thumb. He cringed at the click, ominously loud in the quiet room. "I would hate for you to have an accident."

"Dammit, Talid!" He burst out. "Joram Talid! A turian running for office! I sent the assassin to his apartment in the 800 blocks!"

"Oh, well done, Mister Kelham," Shepard said, a small completely humourless smile on her lips. She took the gun away from his head, watching him flop back into the chair as she holstered it. "Providing that info's good, you won't see us again."

"If it is bad…" Thane put in as both of them turned to leave. He left the threat hanging, waiting until the door slid shut behind them to arch an eyebrow at her. "I thought _I _was meant to convince him we would kill him, Shepard."

She smiled sideways at him, not looking guilty in the least.

"Sorry."


	17. Thanks

**16 – Thanks**

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she was here, she wasn't so sure. Now she was standing here looking up at it, it seemed like terribly bad one.

The memorial was a circular plaza near the site of the attack, the black stone wall curving around it in an arc. She didn't need to get close enough to read the names. She knew them all by heart.

Her own face stared back at her. The statue was now the centrepiece of the Akuze Memorial, and she hated it. For a start, the statue only vaguely resembled her – the artist had apparently been told she was a woman of Amazonian proportions, when in reality she was barely more than 5'4''.

The men and women who had been killed there in the thresher maw attack were just names engraved into stone while she, who had survived, got the big fancy statue. It just seemed wrong to her.

She'd seen the reports. It had officially opened a few months after she'd woken up in the Lazarus station. They'd known she was alive by then, but they'd opened it anyway. It was… strange, looking up at her own memorial. Strange and not a little unpleasant. She was here for _them_, her fallen comrades, but the damn statue and what it represented was making her skin crawl and her chest tighten with the memories.

Memories of Akuze. Memories of her death.

"Are you alright, Siha?"

Shepard jolted out of her thoughts and looked over at him. Thane moved so silently, sometimes. She hadn't heard him come over.

She sighed softly and nodded, gaze going back up to the statue.

"Yeah, it's just…" she stopped, frowning, and shrugged. "I didn't expect it to feel so weird. I thought it'd be nice to… I don't know. Maybe I thought it'd be closure."

He stepped closer and slipped an arm around her, palm resting lightly on her hip.

"You thought it would bring you peace."

Shepard snorted softly.

"Yeah. Instead it's just bringing back memories I'd rather not see." She paused and looked up at him. "I suppose you know what that's like."

Thane kissed her forehead lightly, stroking her hair back from her face with his free hand. She leaned into the gentle touch. He smiled faintly at her.

"Very well, yes."

Shepard nodded, looking up at the memorial again. It represented a part of her past that a lot of people knew of, but that very few truly knew about. It was the event that had made her notorious – the great Commander Shepard, the only survivor of a horrific attack.

Just being here was making her feel like she was twenty-three again, scrambling frantically over the sand and rocks to escape the thresher's snapping jaws. Men and women falling all around her. The smell of blood and death and the thresher maw's acidic venom.

She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut against the memory.

Thane didn't question. He simply wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close to him. She relented, leaning her cheek on his shoulder as she drew in a shuddering breath.

"I never told you about it, did I?" she said. "Not in detail."

"You do not have to, Siha," he murmured into her hair, stroking her back lightly with one hand.

"Human memory isn't as infallible as yours," she said quietly. "But it tends to remember the bad things in perfect clarity. I… being back here again, it could have been yesterday."

"I understand."

"It just came out of nowhere. The thresher. We were all on foot. It just… snapped people up like they were nothing," she said, unable to help the words tumbling out now she'd started. "There was blood everywhere. Everyone was screaming. Those of us it didn't get to immediately, we tried to run, but how do you outrun something like that? I tried to get everyone back to the rovers but…"

She trailed off, letting out a breath. It didn't need to be said. She hadn't managed it. The thresher maw had taken them all, except for her. She'd only learnt years later that Corporal Toombs had survived as well.

Shepard had gotten the better deal.

"You did all you could, Siha," Thane said, stroking her hair lightly. "It was not something you could have predicted or prepared for."

"I know," she agreed, lifting her head from his shoulder. "I wish I could have saved some of them. Any of them. But I know how damned futile it is to think about _what ifs_."

Thane smiled slightly, briefly. "Incredibly so."

"Can't change the past. You just have to live with it," she said, looking over at the wall of names that were all that was left of the people she'd once considered family. She sighed softly, looking back up at him. "I thought maybe coming here'd be… cathartic, I guess. Hasn't really helped," she continued, smiling slightly at him. "But, thank you for coming."


	18. Look

**17 – Look**

The looks they get don't bother him, but he notices. He notices because they don't exactly make it very subtle.

The humans stare because a human acting so familiarly with an alien is strange. It is still seen as bizarre by her species. Still… taboo. _Wrong_, even, by some of them.

The rest stare because seeing a drell on the Citadel – or anywhere – is curious enough. Seeing a drell with a human odder still.

Unlike him, she doesn't appear to notice the gawkers, or if she does she cares even less than he. Either she believes they are all staring, as people do, because she is Commander Shepard, or she knows the real reason and simply doesn't care what they think. Neither would surprise him.

She glances his way and tips her head in question at the expression she finds on his face.

"It seems we are being observed, Siha," he says, leaning in to speak softly into her ear. She laughs softly, a low chuckle.

"That surprises you? I'm used to it. Gotten pretty good at ignoring them."

"So I see."

She gives him a sideways glance, one eyebrow arched delicately.

"Does it bother you?" she asks. She doesn't expect it of him – doesn't think that he, usually so unflappable, would consider the opinions of strangers to have any impact on him.

"No," he assures her. "I simply felt I should mention it."

She moves closer to him so their shoulders brush together as they walk, smiling back at him as she reaches out to take his hand. Their fingers lace together almost of their own accord, settling into one another's familiar grasp.

Her eyes sparkle, bright green irises shining up at him.

"Well," she says, mischief lacing her tone. "If they are going to gossip, they may as well have a _reason._"


	19. Summer

**18 – Summer **

There were some things about summer that Shepard loved, and others that she hated.

As much as she preferred the warmth of summer to the frozen cold of winter, it came with unfortunate side effects – lethargy and sunburn. Heat had always made her sleepy and uncomfortable and, pale as she was, she burnt easily and never tanned. She simply returned to her former pallor with a new smattering of freckles where the red faded.

One of the things she loved about summer, though, was the food.

Her sweet tooth extended not only to chocolate, ice cream and other confectionary. Fruit of all kinds was something that she enjoyed immensely – especially when she could get _proper _fruit, grown on a farm on Earth or some human colony planet, not the bloated vat-grown things one could find on the Citadel.

They'd filled every available freezer and refrigerator with provisions whilst they'd been on Earth – she'd insisted, and it had been _so _worth it.

Retreating to the Loft with her latest bounty, she found Thane lounging on the sofa where she'd left him. He smiled when she appeared at the bottom of the two shallow steps, arching a brow at the things she had brought.

"Watermelon!" she said, by way of explanation. "And strawberries. And oranges."

"Do you _ever _stop eating?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone. She scowled fondly at him as she sat and set the plate down on the table.

"Fruit is good for you," she said, biting into a strawberry. She plucked another up by its stalk and held it out to him. "Try one."

He took it and bit into it even as she popped another into her mouth. They were good, juicy and sweet, and he told her so.

"They are. They're the best when they're really fresh… I went strawberry picking, once, when I was a kid," she said, smiling to herself. "Thing is you can eat as many as you like while you're doing it. Old tradition, as far as I know. We spent the afternoon in a field making ourselves sick on them. And I got sunburn."

Thane hummed softly, a rumbling purr that was barely audible to her human ears.

"You should be more careful," he said. She glanced sideways at him, an eyebrow raised in question. His tone was low and playful, and that familiar tiny hint of a smile was ghosting on his lips. He was teasing her, and she knew it.

Well. Two could play at that game. She reached out and plucked the single remaining strawberry from the plate, knowing he was watching every movement. She made a point of not looking at him, biting into the final strawberry and dropping the stalk delicately back on the plate as she chewed.

"Mm. Well," she said. "These days I have you to help me with that."

"Indeed," he said with a smirk of his own, knowing just what she was thinking of.

During their trip to Intai'Sei, she'd had to explain what she was doing when he found her rubbing sunscreen into her pale skin. After that, he'd insisted on helping her whenever they left the solarium, adamantly declaring that he couldn't have her burning, now, could he?

Well… she'd always liked her shoulders rubbed, and he _did _do it well. He'd realised pretty early on that he could turn her into relaxed, agreeable mush that way. Not that she could complain – it had at least made the discomfort of Intai'Sei's desert summer just a little more bearable.


	20. Transformation

_A/N - A Shepard/Thane fic without the appearance of Shepard or Thane... in which Tali and Garrus gossip  
_

* * *

**19 - Transformation **

"She's different, isn't she?"

Garrus looked up from his terminal and glanced over his shoulder at the familiar voice. Tali was leaning against the door frame, watching him expectantly.

"Shepard?" he said. Tali nodded, stepping further into the gun battery so that the doors closed behind her. Garrus' mandibles flickered sceptically. "She died, Tali. Can't expect her to be exactly the same as she always was. And, damn, she sniped the head clean off a mech five minutes after she found me… she hasn't changed _that_ much."

"That's not what I mean. She's the same Commander, more or less. But she's different now, a little. Different to when I met her on Freedom's Progress, anyway. How haven't you noticed? You've been back longer than I have."

Garrus eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. It was true, he supposed. On the battlefield, in command, Shepard was the same Shepard they had taken Saren down with, the same Shepard who often acted like failure wasn't even a word she'd heard of, never mind an option.

She had the same skills on the battlefield – both bullets and biotics – and the same disregard for personal safety as she rushed headlong into danger. The same stubborn determination.

Both of them had seen beneath that. She'd confessed to Garrus that she was worried about getting them through the suicide mission; told Tali that it was a mission they were very, very likely not coming back from. That was as much as her resolve ever wavered, at least around them.

He'd noticed a few things, though. She _was _different. Not much, of course, but he'd noticed when he first came aboard that she seemed uncomfortable with her new role – understandably, working with Cerberus as she was. But he couldn't deny that some of that had gone and her usual demeanour had… softened.

At least, it had around a certain person.

Garrus' brow-plates lifted minutely, mandibles flaring in a vague smile. Tali tipped her chin up, arms folded. It was a stance Shepard herself used; he got the impression the quarian was arching an eyebrow behind the visor as well, a perfect imitation of the little blonde human.

"Been spending an awful lot of time with our master assassin lately," he said.

"She has. She's always in there talking to him, he's almost always out on missions with her. You think that's it?" Tali said.

"Spirits, Tali, c'mon. She's always been good to us, but doesn't she just seem _warmer, _to you? Especially since we were on the Citadel?"

"I… guess so, yes," she answered, hesitant tone suddenly gone as she continued, "And have you seen the way she looks at him?"

Garrus snorted. _Ah_. So that was it; she'd thought there was something going on and she wanted confirmation from someone else.

"Yeah, I don't think she knows we've noticed," he said. "She thinks she's being subtle."

"It's nice. I'm happy for her."

"Mm. Not good for them that it's right before a damned suicide mission, though."

"_Keelah_, you're optimistic. We were all told getting to Ilos was impossible too. If anyone can get us through this alive, Shepard can," Tali said reprovingly. Garrus grunted and turned back to his terminal.

They'd both been with Shepard at Dantius Towers; neither of them wanted to comment on what they both knew. Even if Shepard beat the odds and got everyone through the suicide mission, Thane would still be dying regardless.

"Good for her, though," Garrus commented. "He is, I mean."

"Yes…" Tali said, smiling to herself. Despite the circumstances, Shepard seemed, if not happy, then at least content. It wasn't that she'd been cold before – she'd been cheerful on the old Normandy – but when she recruited him on Omega he'd noticed she just wasn't as optimistic as she once was.

But she was smiling again these days, hints of the old Shepard showing through.


	21. Tremble

_A/N – can be considered an immediate sequel to the romance scene in ME2. Follows directly on from my rewritten version which you can find a link to on my profile under 'Fic Links'._

_Also, no idea why I keep writing things in present tense, but I like it. _

* * *

**20 – Tremble**

Shepard reaches up with both hands, her palms resting against the red flesh of his cheeks; her thumbs graze lightly over his scales, brushing the drying tear-tracks away. He is shaking, still, as she leans up to press another swift, light kiss to his lips.

Thane finds himself responding in kind, finds it doesn't matter that he'd broken down in such a manner. He'd come up to the Loft to tell her how he felt about her – to tell her that he loved her – and instead he'd ended up telling her how he felt about everything but. She didn't think any less of him because of his outburst; hadn't told him it'd all be alright or to pull himself together. She accepted him, all of him, and he wishes, so much, that he had found her sooner.

That they could have more time.

She is looking up at him as she pulls away. Thinly-veiled worry tinges her expression, but she is smiling, green eyes soft and full of warmth.

"You can stay," she says quietly. "If you want to."

He leans into her, eyes closing as his cheek rests against her head. He had told her he should be at peace on the eve of battle, and though perhaps true peace is impossible, just being here with her would be comforting, at least.

"I think I would like that, Siha," he says, turning slightly to press a kiss to her hair.

They stay there for a long moment before Shepard takes half a step away from him, her palms still resting against his chest. He blinks his eyes open, watching her as she moves to help him out of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugs out of it, draping it over the back of her desk chair as soon as he is free of the confines of the material.

She reaches for him again, fingertips brushing lightly across bared scales, marvelling at the pattern of dark stripes there. She smiles, following the marks down the length of his arms, until her hands meet his and their fingers curl together, as easily as if they were always meant to be there.

"C'mon," she murmurs, tugging lightly at him. He follows, unresisting, as she leads him to the bed, pulling him with her as she leans into the pillows. She seems to know that, for now, he just needs to be close to her, and he settles comfortably beside her with one arm draped over her waist.

He would have been content with her simple presence, but her feather-light touches ghosting over his head and the back of his neck are… distracting. What power she wields, that she can make him shiver with such a small action. What power, that can reduce his thoughts to the ones tumbling around in his head just by trailing gentle fingers down his spine.

The first kiss they shared had been a wild impulse driven by tumultuous emotions. The one he plants on her lips now is fuelled by an altogether different drive. Perhaps it is crazy, what they are doing, but desire impels him, and it is as impossible to resist as Shepard herself.

She does not protest. Her human lips are soft and giving beneath the pressure of his delicately scaled ones, and she whispers his name on a breathy gasp, granting permission – pleading, almost – as they part. It had never been his intention to seek physical comfort in her arms, but, it seems, it is something both of them need, and both of them want.

He has met many humans, but she is the first he has found beautiful. Who and what she is consumes him utterly; he is privileged to be accepted so readily into her presence, and into her bed.

_Siha. _It is an apt name for one such as her, and despite their differing species he can believe, truly, that she is an angel, a gift, though one given cruelly late. It is not fair that he has found her so close to his end.

It is not fair that he wake now, and fall so helplessly in love, when his demise is all but assured.

He shudders, desperately pushing these thoughts aside. She notices and reaches up to touch his cheek, looking up at him in silent question. Her hair is a halo around her head. Spun gold against her pillow, it seems; silken threads between his fingers.

A kiss is his answer, feverish and passionate. Grasping fingers clench at the back of his neck, and her body arches against him, his kisses moving southwards down the pale column of her throat.

He responds to her encouragements and she squirms, head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders. _Soft_ is not a word he would have ever used to describe her, but he finds it is appropriate; her body is soft beneath his, all curves where his is angles, and it is a revelation. Hot, open-mouthed kisses press to her throat, to her neck, to her chest, landing on supple flesh which, for all its pliability, covers tough, toned muscle.

Each absorbed in the other, they move together, skin against scales. It is glorious – _she _is glorious, this wonderful creature who has seen the darkest parts of him and embraced them.

She curls into him, later, her mouth curved into a smile as she tucks her head beneath his chin and he wraps his arms around her. She is a treasure, and he adores her.

They both know their deaths beyond the relay are a very real possibility, but for the moment, impending doom seems very far away.


	22. Sunset

_A/N – a little rough and unpolished, may continue this one day. _

* * *

**21 - Sunset**

"When I said I would like to see a desert, I did not expect you to find an entire planet."

Shepard grinned over at him as she hopped out of the shuttle onto the sand. She'd known from the moment he'd said those words that, if they survived the suicide mission, she would bring him here.

It was just as overbearingly hot as she remembered it. Last time she'd been here, she'd managed to get sunburn within ten minutes.

Of course… that had been before the Lazarus Project. Her semi-synthetic skin was probably tougher, but she wasn't taking any chances. She'd already slathered herself in sunscreen. Still, the planet's hot, arid climate was a pain in the ass for terraforming, but it was perfect for drell.

"Intai'sei!" She announced as he jumped down beside her. "Mostly scattered human colonies and wind farms, but it has its benefits."

"It is quite beautiful, Siha," Thane said with a smile as he took her hand. "This is the solarium you mentioned?"

"Yep. Won it from an admiral."

Thane arched a brow faintly. "You won it."

"I won it," she said, laughing at the deadpan tone.

"I… see."

"The Admiral at Pinnacle Station gave me a challenge... If I did it, this was my prize." She grinned as she keyed the entry pad on the door, looking at him as it swished open. "Never thought I'd actually find a use for it but, here we are. C'mon."

Thane was smiling faintly as he followed her in. Along the first small corridor another door opened into the main part of the solarium – a big, rectangular, open-plan room. A small kitchenette, a table and chairs. A bed, a sofa, an enormous television.

Arching up behind the sofa was a wall made entirely out of glass, overlooking the desert. In the distance, the sun was dipping behind the dunes, turning the sky as burning orange as the sand below it.


	23. Mad

_I'm always fascinated by the psychology of characters. How they tick, how and why they react as they do. As such I've always wondered how Shepard deals with her life - and death. This is me poking at it._

_This is set sometime in ME2, before the suicide mission and very early in their relationship._

* * *

**22 – Mad**

Sometimes, she feels as if she is loosing her tentative grip on sanity.

She'd died. She had died and been brought back, only to be sent on yet another suicide mission. She had died, and everyone thinks she's fine.

Since learning what had happened to her, she has found herself kept awake at night by new things. Memories from the Prothean Beacon – those had been with her since Eden Prime. But dreams of suffocating, burning, in deep space… those were entirely new.

That was, she supposed, only natural. Well, as natural as a response to a completely surreal event could be. No one, no matter how strong, could go through that unscathed.

And yet everyone seemed to be expecting her to do exactly that.

She sighed and rolled over, avoiding looking out of the skylight at the stars above. She had woken to escape from a dream of stars and darkness and death; she didn't need the reminder.

Shepard had never been particularly religious, but she'd always believed in… something _more._ If there was an afterlife, a place beyond, she had no memory of it, but the very idea that she had died and returned made her feel unnatural. Inhuman, even.

When she was alone, when she could let the Commander persona slip, she often found herself thinking about it, drawn to it no matter how much it hurt to think about.

Something Thane had said once came to mind. He had told her about his beliefs, the old religion of the drell. He believed that body and soul were two part of a whole, but separate – and each could be disconnected from the other.

Was that it? Was she simply… disconnected? Was that why she could not remember – her soul had been… what? Left behind? Not as comforting a thought as it should have been, she thought; surely there was a difference between becoming disconnected, and loosing your soul entirely.

Yeah. That helped.

She sighed and pulled the duvet up over her head, as if that was any help. Why was she even thinking about it? Did it _really _matter? It's not like she could prove the existence of an afterlife, nor that her soul was stuck there.

Which was the maddening part. She knew there was something – something fundamentally _wrong _about her, about what she was now.

_Ugh. _She really was going crazy.

"Are you well, Siha? You look tired."

Shepard looked up from the datapad she was reading as he slipped into her cabin, stepping lightly down the two little stairs to the lower level. He came over to her where she sat on the sofa, presenting her with a steaming mug; she smiled gratefully, setting the datapad down and taking the mug in both hands.

She leaned back into the sofa cushions as she took a sip, watching him move to the other end of the sofa and sit down.

"Couldn't sleep," she answered. "So, come on. What's the matter? I assume bringing me tea is just an excuse."

"Not at all, Siha. I simply noticed that you function better after breakfast."

She grinned slightly at that; no one on the crew had ever noticed that their commander could not stand coffee, except for him. And here he was, bringing it up to her cabin.

"Well… that's true, I admit it."

Thane hummed softly, one of his little half-smiles pulling at his lips. Shepard rolled her eyes and sipped at her tea. Apparently her pre-breakfast bad moods were well known. She'd never been a morning person – out in deep space with no daylight to speak of, she was even less so.

He was giving her one of his unfathomable looks again.

"What?"

"Are you sure you are well, Siha? You do look exhausted."

She stared back at him for a long moment. She wasn't accustomed to sharing her feelings… but maybe there was at least one member of the crew that didn't expect her to always be the unshakeable commander.


	24. Thousand

**23 – Thousand**

When she was a little girl, Shepard had often looked up at the night sky and counted the stars. They had seemed so impossibly far away – unreachable, unattainable. As far back as she could remember she had wanted to see the galaxy only recently opened up to humanity.

She hadn't realised then that galactic society considered humanity to be small and almost entirely insignificant. At the time, it had made her feel tiny; an unimportant little speck compared to the enormity of the galaxy.

These days, humanity's place was far greater – thanks largely to her – but somehow she didn't feel all that much more important. The Council still didn't listen to her, and not much had changed in the two years since the SSV Normandy had been destroyed.

Along with her.

Since the accident that had taken her first life, she had been unable to look at the stars with anything resembling the same wonder she once had.

Now, the thousand twinkling points of light surrounded by the endless sea of darkness were just a reminder of how she'd died, tumbling through space unable to breathe, her air supply venting out of her damaged armour.

She shuddered, looking away from the skylight above the bed. She never closed the external shutters even though having the constant reminder right above her head made her skin crawl. It was stupid, really, but she'd thought that by forcing herself to look she would eventually be able to do so without thinking of fire and darkness.

She sighed softly, looking over at Thane, dozing beside her. He helped – his mere presence, his arms loosely curled around her, helped. He knew exactly what to say or do to make her feel better, whether it be simple assurance that he was there for her, or something more than simple words.

To think, she had been so reluctant to accept her feelings for him at first; she had avoided and resisted and ultimately caved in, and was surprised to find that the man she had once thought of as cold and distant could be so affectionate.

Shepard let out a breath and curled closer to him. His arms tightened around her when she moved; he had always been a light sleeper, ever alert to his environment, and her small movements had woken him.

Dark eyes watched her for a moment before he pulled her wordlessly to his chest, tucking her head carefully under his chin.

She felt one scaled palm run soothingly over her back as she settled in his arms. She was grateful that he didn't ask. He no longer needed to. He knew her well enough by now to know of all the things that kept her from sleep.

She was smiling when she finally drifted off, content knowing that, no matter what it was that kept her awake, he would be there to hold the fears at bay.


	25. Outside

**24 – Outside **

The view from the hotel balcony was glorious, overlooking the sprawling buildings of Cairo. The pyramids loomed in the distance, looking weirdly alien beyond the modern buildings of the city.

_Well, _she thought, _people _used _to think they were built by aliens…_

She smiled vaguely, shaking her head to herself. She'd seen Prothean pyramids on Tuntau and Bintha and Chasca. The Protheans were long gone by the time the Ancient Egyptians were constructing the colossal epithets on the Giza Plateau, but she knew enough about the Protheans to know they studied early humans… and were not above providing guidance to flourishing species. Maybe there was at least a grain a truth to the conspiracy theory after all.

"Beautiful," Thane's voice said behind her.

She smiled and turned, looking over her shoulder at him. He had just emerged from the wide patio doors that lead to the balcony, and was setting down the tray he had just retrieved from room service. Shepard reached out and started pouring tea before he'd managed to sit.

"It is," she agreed.

Thane just smiled faintly. She arched an eyebrow at him over the pot as she poured, and smirked – both of them knew he wasn't talking about the view, but she wasn't going to point it out.

Even this early in the day the desert heat was impressive. For the few days they'd been here, Shepard had been slathered in sunscreen every time she went outside; she had the type of skin which burnt far too quickly, and didn't even have the decency to tan after it healed. Thane, though, flourished in the desert, just as he had on Intai'sei. The dry air was good for his lungs, for one.

His scales shone in the early morning sunlight, each one glistening like a jewel. She smiled at that thought as she picked at her breakfast – his species alone would have made him stand out on Earth regardless, but his highly distinctive colouring made him even more noticeable.

"You wanted to go out to them, did you not?" he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. She looked up at him and smiled slightly, glancing out over the city to where the pyramids dominated the skyline.

"Yes. I've wanted to see them for years," she said, and laughed softly. "I guess it's kind of silly, isn't it? I've been the arse-end of the galaxy but it's taken me twenty years to visit a country on my own damn planet."

"And does it meet your expectations?"

"Oh, yes," she answered, grinning. "What we've seen so far, anyway."

Thane just smiled in answer, sipping his tea. She had insisted on visiting Cairo's famous museum almost as soon as they arrived. The fact that she loved museums was not news to him, but her childlike enthusiasm had been rather… surprising. It had somehow seemed unlike her yet completely in character both at once.

She so often restricted her reactions and emotions in public that it was unusual to see her so unrestrained, but she never _did _do anything in half measures; besides, he had found her gleeful excitement endearing.

"Not that we've seen that much, yet," she added, pulling him out of the memory. She was eying him out of her corners of her eyes, giving him a sly smile. They hadn't exactly had time to do much sightseeing, considering they'd barely left the hotel. Time alone without the general interruptions of daily life as part of the Normandy's crew was pretty scarce, and both of them were relishing the ability to enjoy one another's company – whether it was simply sitting together on the balcony eating breakfast, as they were now, or something more.

He smiled back wryly.

"Well, it _is _a very nice resort," he said. She laughed.

"Right."

The resort was _not _the thing he'd been taking notice of for the duration of their stay so far… and especially not when they'd ventured out to the hotel's enormous pool. He had become exceptionally transparent, she thought – well, either he was becoming more obvious in his attentions, or she was getting better at detecting them.

He hummed softly, smiling slightly. Evidently, he knew what she was thinking.

"You are very beautiful, my Alena."

She blinked and looked up at him, unable to help the little smile that rose to her own lips. He had said those exact words many times over, but part of her was still surprised each and every time. She'd gotten far too used to the other compliments – strong, capable, an excellent leader – but 'beautiful'?

That was still strange.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Do you believe me, yet?" Thane asked, amusement lacing his tone. Damn him for knowing her so well.

Shepard laughed softly, setting her empty cup down.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "You might still have to say it a few more times."


	26. Winter

**25 – Winter **

She has always hated snow. It is cold and wet and she hates it.

She thinks maybe it comes from the fact that, spending a lot of time on the streets as a child, she had learned to fear it; the cold could be lethal to the unwary street brat who failed to find shelter.

At least the thermal layer in her armour subsuit keeps out a lot of the cold.

"How are you doing?" she asks, looking over at Thane. Even in his armoured suit with several layers beneath it, he's obviously still feeling it.

"I am fine, Siha," he says, though both of them know he is lying. Drell are not like Earth reptiles – they are not cold blooded – but their adaptations for warmer climates make them particularly unsuited to the cold. She arches a sceptical eyebrow at him.

"You're shivering."

"It _is _snowing, Siha," he answers, smiling wryly at her. He knows she's caught him in a lie.

"I noticed," she says, and pauses, smiling. "Come on."

She takes his hand firmly, curling their fingers together with practiced ease – the differences in their hands meant his fused digits had to sit between her middle and ring fingers.

By the time they get back to the Normandy, the snow is even heavier. Both of them are shivering as the airlock doors close behind them.

"We _do _have things to do, Siha," he reminds her, arching his brows. She grins back.

"I know. And I know it means staying here longer but… I don't mind staying for tomorrow if it means you don't freezing today," she says. The inner doors open and they step out together, still hand in hand. "Besides. I hate snow, remember?"

"You may have mentioned that, Siha, yes."


	27. Diamond

**26 – Diamond **

Commander Shepard is a complex person, and many things to many people. It seemed that everyone found something to admire in her.

She has the leadership and discipline the turians hold in such high esteem. She wields her biotics like the best of the asari commandos, and she wages war like the strongest krogan battlemasters. She has aided the quarians many times over, and she respects them – she is one of too few people who treat them as equals.

Thane, though, adores her for her weaknesses as well as her strengths, and for the things most people never see.

She is a strong woman, but she has an enormous capacity for compassion. She is a fearsome fighter, but she can be so tender and gentle, running careful fingertips over his scales. She goes out of her way to help others, despite the mountain of problems the galaxy heaps onto her small shoulders.

She is a diamond with many facets, the shining jewel of the galaxy, the one human accepted by the myriad species she had united.


	28. Letters

**27 - Letters**

When she had taken over command of the Normandy, she had started to keep a Captain's Log. It had seemed logical. Obvious really. But Shepard had never kept her log on datapads or her terminal. It had seemed foolish to her.

_Anything stored electronically can be retrieved electronically_. It was a rule she had stuck to for years. As a youngster on the streets of Earth, she'd watched her back vigilantly, and she'd learnt to leave as small a trail as possible. The solution for her was logical: she had gotten her hands on a notebook.

Perhaps she was paranoid or sentimental or both, but it had worked for her so far. Bound in black leather with creamy pages, it lived on the desk beside her private terminal, surrounded by scattered stationary. She knew it must look absurd to anyone who wasn't familiar with her habit; almost no one used pen and paper anymore.

She ran her fingers lightly over the page she'd recently finished, testing the ink. Her writing was small and rounded, the letters crammed close together on the page. Here and there her words were interspersed with sketches – another of her habits – simple pencil drawings of people and places and objects.

It was another reason people were always surprised to find her working in an old notebook, and another reason she tried to keep the contents hidden. She'd always thought her archaic methods were silly, and if anyone ever caught her doodling she'd smile self-depreciatingly and tell them it helped her to think.

She was running out of pages; she hadn't bothered to buy a new book since the probability of them dying on the Collector Base was so high; come to think of it, it was sort of crazy that she'd carried on writing anyway. Who'd find it, if the Normandy was marooned beyond Omega 4?

Shepard sighed vaguely. She didn't expect to survive the mission even if she would do her utmost to do so, but it had just seemed right to keep doing it anyway. Besides, it had become a habit, and she found it helped to organise her thoughts.

_Yes, _she thought, shaking her head to herself. _Helps to organise your thoughts about Thane. _

Her own sketch stared back at her and she eyed it thoughtfully. He was in her thoughts far too often these days, and she knew it was crazy to even be considering what she knew she was. He was dying, they were on a suicide mission…

…and yet here she was filling pages with scribbled notes of the things they'd talked about.

"Gods," she muttered aloud, snapping the book shut as if hiding the words could prevent the thoughts they contained from spilling out. She was being crazy, she knew that.

But somehow that didn't seem to matter.


	29. Promise

**28 - Promise **

She is his angel, his saviour.

She is the air in his lungs and the warmth of the desert against his scales, and she has lit a fire under him that he never dreamed she possibly could.

Fire. It is always fire with her. She burns as brightly as the midday sun, a phoenix risen from her own scattered ashes, trailing an inferno in her wake.

He returns from battlesleep, dragged from his waking slumber by a woman so vibrant she is impossible to ignore. She is a beacon, guiding the way out of the dark, drawing him inexorably towards the light.

When their hands meet across the table, she curls hers into his and her fingers rasp lightly across the surface of his scales. She's smiling as she admits she cares for him, and it makes his heart lift to know it.

The further he gets from the maw of battlesleep, the more he feels for her, and the more he realises that their time together will be too short. The suicide mission, looming black and menacing over them all, threatens to cut their limited time even shorter, and he cannot take it.

It is not that he is unfamiliar with human anatomy – humans have been his targets along with all the rest – but the softness of her skin surprises him. The solace he finds in her arms is not enough, but for a while he can forget, as much as a drell ever can.

He is with her when she faces the Reaper, a monstrosity made in mockery of her species. She faces it with the same unwavering determination with which she approaches everything, and, as with everything, she succeeds.

Another monster consumed by the fires that seem to be hers to command.

The base begins to crumble around them, and she snatches him once more from the jaws of death as he falls over the edge. She saves lives as if it is her very purpose – his, the crew, the entire human race.

She has made her career from performing the impossible, and she proves it, over and over again. Surely she is an angel, a Siha as he proclaims, for only a guardian angel could do the things that she does.

They flee from the galaxy's core, retreating from the explosive flames.

It is _always _fire with her, and it is glowing in her eyes when she tells him she loves him for the first time. A pledge not easily given, he knows – but every light caress, every soft word is an oath, promising forever.

She has stolen his heart, and he will die knowing that she will carry it always.


	30. Simple

**29 - Simple **

She is Commander Shepard, the first human Spectre, the exemplar of victory. The hero of the Citadel, the champion of her species.

A symbol, an icon.

But Thane sees more than the hero, because he gets to see the parts of her that lie behind the veneer of Commander Shepard.

He sees her like no one else does. Everyone can see her enormous capacity for kindness and mercy, her strength of will, and her determination – but he is the one who sees her vulnerabilities and her fears and her worries, and he loves her all the more for them.

Shepard, he knows, is a very private person, holding these things close to her chest. She has told him before that she feels she cannot let them out, not even around her closest friends among the crew. To them, she must always be the unshakeable, immovable Commander, a leader, a fighter.

She died, but she wants them to believe she is fine. But how can she be? Who could do all she has done, experience all she has, and emerge unscathed?

It is a privilege that she trusts him enough to share these things with him. She bottles her worries up and keeps them to herself, but eventually they had overflowed and she had told him of the fears that kept her awake at night. He had wrapped his arms around her and held her as she leaned against him, telling him of things she had never voiced before.

She is scared of the stars; she can no longer look at the vastness of space without struggling to breathe. It is because she died out there, blackness and breathlessness pressing in.

The lives she couldn't save play out in her head at night. Lieutenant Alenko and the Spectre, Nihlus Kryik, and many more besides. Her squad, on Akuze; she sees their faces in her dreams, deaths played out again and again, an endless procession of survivor's guilt.

She fears for him. Partly out of selfishness, she admitted – she does not want to lose him – but also because she does not want to see him suffer.

There are so many things which demand Commander Shepard's attention, things far more worthy of her time, in his opinion, and yet she thinks so often of him.

There are an infinite number of things that contribute to him adoring her so much, it seems – hundreds upon hundreds of moments together, preserved forever in his memories. But sometimes it is the little things, the simple things, that are the most important, and they are the things that make him love her the most.

The way she laughs at her own bad jokes; the way she bites her lower lip when she's concentrating. The way she smiles, shyly almost, and looks up at him through her lashes when he tells her she is beautiful.

The way she looks at him, sometimes, like she doesn't understand why he has any interest in her at all. She is Commander Shepard, she is a hero and an icon, but some part of her will always see herself as the skinny kid from the streets of Earth.

He loves her, this he knows without a doubt. It is irrevocable, unequivocal – she is the most wonderful thing to happen to him in years. She woke him from his battlesleep, helped him, and cared for him… and showed him that life, what little is left of it, is worth fighting for.


	31. Future

**30 - Future **

The Collectors were gone. The base had been destroyed, the proto-Reaper with it, and they were finally free of Cerberus… but Shepard could not help the overwhelming feeling of foreboding that still hung over her.

She leaned against the railing and looked down over the floors of Zakera Ward, watching the crowds below, bustling around and going about their lives, ignorant of the looming threat. Part of her wished she could be one of them, blissfully unaware of the danger.

"Siha…"

Shepard looked up as Thane appeared beside her, smiling faintly at him in greeting. He had obviously seen her previous melancholic expression, and did not smile back. He leaned against the railing with her, watching her quietly.

Damn him, he knew just how to create a silence she could not help but fill.

"Look at them," she said, gesturing vaguely at the people below. A cluster of young asari cooed over something seen in a store window; a pair of turians hurried past, gesturing with their hands as they talked animatedly. "They're all just… getting on with their lives like they have no idea they're in danger."

"They _don't _have any idea," Thane said. Shepard sighed.

"I know. And that's the problem – not that people don't have any idea, but that they wouldn't even believe it if they were told."

"No one wants to believe something like that. As far as most people know, they are creatures from myths, from ancient stories. Why would they believe in them?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because they spent the last two years picking bits of one out of the Presidium reservoirs?"

Thane's mouth curved in a small smile at her sarcasm. "Saren's capital ship."

Shepard snorted, shaking her head to herself. The Council had given her back her Spectre status, along with the announcement that they had _dismissed _the Reapers as fantasy. Half the galaxy – those that knew she was even alive, anyway – thought her mad, raving about ancient synthetics coming to destroy them all.

Too many people thought the Reapers to be the deluded concoctions of a crazy woman, and some of the more spiteful had suggested she spouted such things to snatch back her former glory.

As if she cared if the galaxy actually liked her or not. She just wanted to do her damn job.

"Where do we go from here?" she said. "What are we supposed to do when no one will help us? No one even believes us."

"If anyone can make people believe, it is you, Siha."

She looked sideways at him, smiling slightly. He always knew just what to say, too.

"I'm trying. People just keep dismissing me as a lunatic."

"They will see, eventually," he said.

"Yeah. And by then it might be too late."

Thane sighed softly and reached over to squeeze her shoulder lightly. She looked at him, a little surprised – they were still maintaining as much of a professional manner in public as they could, intending to keep their relationship discrete, and even such an innocent contact was… unexpected.

But… pleasant. She sighed softly and reached up to rest her hand over his, unable to help the smile when he laced their fingers together. She could just about deal with the weight of the galaxy pressing down on her shoulders if she had Thane to do his usual Thane thing and tell her just what she needed to hear to feel better.

Except their future together was uncertain.

Or perhaps, it _was _certain: certainly doomed. He was still dying, no matter how fit and well he often seemed. Kepral's was not going to wait for her to destroy the Reapers, if she even could.

Suddenly, she couldn't look at him, struck with the crushing certainty that this beautiful creature was fading away before her eyes and _there was nothing she could do about it. _

"Siha?" he asked, his voice low with concern as she looked away.

"I'm ok," she said, shaking her head to herself. "I just…"

"What about us," he said, quietly. "You were thinking of _our _future."

She looked up at him, able only to stare at him for several moments. It wasn't only, she realised, that he could tell she had been thinking about it – it was that he was thinking it too.

"Yes," she murmured. "I was. What do _we _do?"

"We keep going," he answered. "And we make the best of the time we have."

There he went, saying just the right thing again. She smiled weakly at him, wanting desperately to hug him but feeling that, in the name of discretion, she shouldn't. Her indecision must have shown on her face, because he took the choice away from her by pulling her carefully into his arms.

And, leaning against him with her arms around his middle and her forehead resting on his shoulder, she found she didn't care about propriety anymore.


End file.
